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Best Poems Written by Brian Johnson

Below are the all-time best Brian Johnson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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I'm building a spaceship in my garden shed
From old bits of second hand cars
It's due to depart in a couple of months
Not to Uranus,Venus or Mars
But far further away in the cosmos
Lies a planet quite similar to Earth
With an atmosphere simply to die for
Yes it's Kepler dash 186f

There room for at least a dozen or so
And I'm currently making a list
Of some of my friends who might fancy the trip
But I think I will have to insist
That they bring some warm clothes for the journey
Some sandwiches, cakes and a flask 
'cause five hundred light years is quite distant
But I think they'll be up to the task

I'm obliged to ask Peter and Suzy
Well they asked us for Christmas last year
And Bill and Claudette from the Alderman's Arms
I could put them in charge of the beer
There's Mary and Phil, they're already an item
There's Vera McKinlay and Brent
Then there's Tommy and Sue, I just had to invite them
As Tommy's the one with the tent

I've ensured that they're all of childbearing age
And I'll pair them all up from the start
And I'll seat them together to help them
get familiar before we depart
Then as soon as we land on the planet
We'll get down to the business in hand
And in no time at all there'll be hundreds of us
To develop our new wonderland
So I'll soon have the craft fit for lift-off
And I've filled up the rockets with gas
And I'm sure they'll withstand the explosion
Cause I've used only best fibreglass
Then as soon as my crew are assembled
And the satnav is fitted and primed
We'll be heading for Kepler dash 186f
And one more giant step for mankind

Copyright © Brian Johnson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Brian Johnson Poem

Costa Lamento

Same old routine, same venue too
We join the queue, I order
Flat white for her with fern motif
Tan crema round the border
For me a capuccino, large
With sifted chocolate powder
Baristas all look younger now
The music slightly louder

We grab our favourite corner seat
Our meal, the usual fare
Two toasties filled with ham and cheese
A Chelsea bun to share
The great machine behind the counter
Clanks and slurps and hisses
And suddenly I recollect
Those first exciting kisses

Brunette has given way to grey
Her voice a little gentler
She takes my hand and thanks me for
The flowers that I sent her
Her smile, so sweet, improved with age
Her wise and loving eyes
Close tight before she takes a sip
Leans back a bit, and sighs

We laugh and talk the years away as if
Time was suspended
Why did I let her slip away
It's not what I intended 
But too late now to make amends
However we construe it
We took a fatal turning and
We well and truly blew it

Copyright © Brian Johnson | Year Posted 2019

Details | Brian Johnson Poem

Albert's Avengers

Albert G Walpole, proud legionnaire
Clerk to the council for all of his days
Lived with his mother in Hartington D'Arcy
Nice little end terrace, quite set in his ways

But one Sunday evening, returning from church
This man of high values, a virtuous clean-liver
Was mugged by some yobs full of Shipyard pale ale
Relieved of his wallet and thrown in the river

This tragical brush with recalcitrant youth
Metamorphosised Albert from sweetness and light
Into neighbourhood champion, par-excellence
An enforcer of by-laws and everything right

A tweeded avenger, a man on a mission
To clean up his town and restore proper order
Got on his bike and patrolled day and night with
his helmet-cam synced to his Sony recorder

Keen vigilantes were quickly recruited
Chesty old buffers and ladies who lunch
Weaponisation was swift and effective
Tape-measures, note-pads and radar speed guns

Dog fouling, ball games and illegal parking
Were photographed, logged and reported post-haste
Wheeley bin contents were checked for legality
Closed circuit cameras cunningly placed


Alas, this account contains no happy ending
As Albert's Avengers are sadly no more
'cause one night in August the townsfolk rose up
And slaughtered our hero and three of his corps

In conclusion it seems there are differing views
As to what is construed as felonious                    
But one thing's for sure in this contrary world
It's not smart to be too sanctimonious

Copyright © Brian Johnson | Year Posted 2020

Details | Brian Johnson Poem


Feet, do your stuff just one more time
Fandango round the Palais
Direct these poor arthritic bones
To dance that grand finale

My hair is lost, my teeth gone brown
I'm slowly going doolally
But c'mon hooves, you'll manage just one
final whirl with Sally

So steer these limbs around the floor
One last skeletal rally
A late rhapsodic flush to end
That tragic, final ballet

Copyright © Brian Johnson | Year Posted 2020